Bird Nests, Birds, Creation, Life Lessons, Spring




The valley below is greening. A kaleidoscope of spring hues soften winter’s drab silhouette. Birds serenade their sweethearts then zip across the yard with sprigs of straw and bits of trash destined for their woven nurseries.

I watch as they pause on the deck for refreshment then rush off again, intent on the age-old ritual of bringing forth another generation. Unlike man, they neither question nor resist their roles in God’s glorious creation.


Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?  Matt. 6:28

My Questions

Why do we insist on writing our own script when His plan is perfect?

Some think it’s for wimps.

Others may say, “Bor-ing.”

Or maybe, “I don’t do that religious stuff.”

My Thoughts

If you could ask the men and women who have dared take God at His Word through the centuries, I doubt even one would describe the journey as wimpy, boring or religious stuff. Sometimes


Hang-Onto-Your-Hat Exciting


Downright Hard

But never ever



Religious Stuff.

What Ifs?

What would we say if just once we caught so much as a glimpse of all the wonders God has stored up for those who love and seek Him?

What would our world be like then?

A Reminder From Dorothy


Then I notice the winter casualties in my flowerpots, the brambles infringing on our lawn and the weeds invading my flowerbeds and recall a line from the Wizard of Oz.

Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.

There’s my answer. Like the Pop Culture says, This ain’t Kansas, Toto.

And this ain’t the Garden.


Our Creator knew we needed a Savior.


What is man and woman that you bother with them; why take a second look their way? You made them not quite as high as angels, bright with Eden’s dawn light; Then you put them in charge of your entire handcrafted world.

Hebrews 2:6-7 MSG

Bird Nests, Creation, Moss, Whimsey


Who knew moss resembled tiny stars?
Do you get excited when you stumble upon whimsical expressions of nature like this tiny moss heart or little bird nest? I sure do. They remind me of the intricate details in all God’s handiwork.

It delights me to move them from one spot to another as I seek the perfect display space

May we never lose our awe of God’s beautiful creation.

I’d love to hear about your latest Find.

Then God saw everything that He had made, 
and, indeed it was very good.

Gen. 1:31a

Copyright © Reflections from Dorothy’s Ridge 2016. All rights reserved

Christianity, Creation, Hymns, Sunday School

Sunday Remembrances

It’s the time when night gives way to a new day. I slip out onto the balcony and wait for the sun to peep over the horizon. 

Closing my eyes, I let the gentle rhythm of the surf wash over me. Words to an old hymn come to mind:

This is my Father’s world, 

and to my listening ears 
all nature sings and round me rings

the music of the spheres.

As I sing softly to myself and God, I’m back with Karen, Judy and Becca in Sunday school opening exercises at the First Methodist Church in my Searcy. 

Will, Paulette, Irvin and the other older kids are there, too. And we’re all singing our hearts out.

Our Sunday school department at FMC Searcy in 1954. 
I realize you can’t really see us in all our 7-year-old cuteness, 
but Karen’s the first one on the  left end of the front row.
I’m next to her and Becca’s next to me.  Judy is that tiny little girl, 
second from the end on the right side of the same row.

Gratitude wells up within me. Blessed to have been taken to Sunday school and church. Blessed to have been told about our Creator. Blessed to have heard about a heavenly Father who loves me. Even me. Especially me. 

I need that when I stumble and fail at this thing called life. I don’t claim to understand it, and I sure don’t deserve it. But I give thanks for God’s mercy, grace and love. I think, if only everyone could know. 

Like a whisper, I hear, You could tell them.

This is my Father’s world, 
the birds their carols raise, 
The morning light, the lily white, 
declare their Maker’s praise…

May we be bold enough to tell others how deeply and completely they are loved by God.

This is My Father’s World

This is my Father’s world,

and to my listening ears
all nature sings, and round me rings
the music of the spheres.
This is my Father’s world:
I rest me in the thought
of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
his hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father’s world,

the birds their carols raise,
the morning light, the lily white,
declare their maker’s praise.
This is my Father’s world:
he shines in all that’s fair;
in the rustling grass I hear him pass; 
he speaks to me everywhere.

This is my Father’s world.
O let me ne’er forget
that though the wrong seems oft so strong,
God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father’s world:
why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King; let the heavens ring!
God reigns; let the earth be glad!

The United Methodist Hymnal Number 144
Text: Maltbie D. Babcock
Music: Trad. English melody; adapt. by Franklin L. Sheppard
Last year, Karen, me, Becca & Judy–
still connected by love, faith &
memories of those early years.

The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof; the world and they that dwell therein.
Ps. 24:1 KJV

Copyright © Reflections from Dorothy’s Ridge 2015. All rights reserved